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Five cans of paint in the empty fields
The dust reveals
The children cry, the work never ends
There's not a single friend
Who will hold her hand in the sunken lands?
The mud and tears melt the cotton balls
It's a heavy toll, oh-oh
His words are cruel and they sting like fire
Like the devil's choir, oh-oh
But who will hold her hand in the sunken lands?
The river rises and she sails away
But she could never stay, oh-oh
Now her work is done in the sunken lands
There's, five empty cans
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